


A Way Out

by koalathebear



Series: What If? [10]
Category: Homeland
Genre: Book End, F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://frust-sheep.tumblr.com/">frust_sheep</a> sent me a prompt this morning:</p><p>  <i>"I can't get the image out of my head, that Carrie will know (maybe because of Dar), when the Black Ops are back and that then she just waits for Quinn on the airport area or something and will watch as he leaves the airplane. He sees her then too and cannot believe, that she is there for him to clear (up) their misunderstandings or something."</i></p><p>This is set almost directly after episode 4.12 A Long Time Coming, the season 4 finale.</p><p>"What if Carrie was waiting for Quinn when he gets back from Syria?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Way Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frust-sheep](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=frust-sheep).



"Carrie – be reasonable, what you're asking for is just not possible," Saul tells her urgently as she stands in the doorway of his library.

She puts her hands on her hips and looks him up and down. "The fuck it's not," she says scornfully. "You're saying this. To _me_." Her voice is cold. "Seriously – fucking seriously, Saul? After what you've just gone and done?"

"Carrie – "

"Because I can tell you, before all of this, I could have sworn, hand on heart sworn to God that there was no way in fucking hell Saul Berenson would have even done a deal with the devil like this. I could have sworn I'd never see you get in bed with the likes of Dara Adal and Haissam Haqqani."

Saul closes his eyes as if it causes him physical pain to look at her.

"Carrie – I'm aware." His voice is quiet. Calm.

"Are you?" she demands. "I don't even know what shit you've agreed to … what compromises you've made in the name of what you think is for the better good - but if you think you can trust either Dar Adal or Haqqani to honour their side of the deal, you're living in fucking Neverland. Make no mistake about it, Saul – if you've let Dar Adal hold something over you – he owns you now. You've sold your soul."

Saul takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, giving a short humourless laugh. "Lost that when you let me fall back into the hands of Haqqani's people, Carrie." He watches her flinch. "Like you, I'm just doing what I can now to make it right," he tells her and she can tell he honestly believes the bullshit that is all that comes out of his mouth these days.

"You tell yourself whatever you fucking need to tell yourself, Saul," she tells him softly, shaking her head, a cold smile on her face, her face twisting in disgust. "You have dishonoured every single person he has ever slaughtered. This is a fuck you to the memory of, Fara – but hey, you get to sit in the Directors' office for you. How's that working out for you?" she demands. 

He says nothing.

"You need me, Saul and these are my terms. Since you've shown you have the stomach to not just negotiate but get in bed with terrorists and murderers – then you can fucking do a deal with _me_. Take that back to your goddamned masters," she spits out at him before leaving the room.

Saul sits down slowly, his face distant. He closes his eyes and he feels old, very, very old.

*

Quinn leans back in the transport that's flying them back Stateside from Jordan. 

"Good job guys, no one died except the bad guys," Rob announces loudly to the team over the noise of the aircraft as it takes off the runway.

"Good plan taking us to Jordan," Nolan commented from the corner. "Beats having to find our own fucking way out of Iraq on our own." The original plan for the open-ended mission was for the team to make its own way back after being dropped over Aleppo. It had been Quinn's idea to head to the Muwaffaq Salti Air Base in Jordan instead where they'd be able to hitch a ride home in style. 

"How's the leg?" Quinn asks and Nolan nods. "I'll live – thanks to you."

"You need to lose some weight, asshole – would make it easier to carry you," Quinn tells him and grins as Nolan tells him to do something that is either an anatomically impossible action or an x-rated yoga move.

"Where's your head at now, Peter?" Rob asks him abruptly. "This mean you're back in?" he asks.

Quinn shakes his head. "No. Just means I couldn't leave you boys to fuck up this mission … but I can't keep doing this shit anymore."

"You're good at it – one of the best. I can't see you working in an office all day," Rob points out.

Quinn's light eyes studied Rob's face steadily for a moment. 

A State-sanctioned assassination was just that, sanctioned by the prevailing authority at the time. There was no natural law that gave absolution to someone who took another human's life. Whether you were a soldier, executioner or CIA assassin – there was a price to pay when you killed and the State did not have it in its power to forgive that or to restore the piece of your soul that disappeared every time you extinguished a life.

Sometimes Quinn wondered how he had any soul left.

"There's also the question of whether Group's ever going to let you leave," Rob comments. "I mean look at McPherson over there," he says gesturing in McPherson's direction.

"Well I just love you guys so much," he says sarcastically, giving them all the finger before he pulls his cap over his eyes and settles in for a sleep.

"McPherson's addicted to this shit," Quinn says dismissively.

"And you're different, how?" Rob demands. "I saw you out there. We couldn't have got through this without you – this is what you were born to do."

"And that's where you're wrong," Quinn tells him with a twisted smile.

*

He stands up and slings his back over his shoulder. 

"OK assholes, everyone get home – shit, shower and shave and then assemble at HQ at 0900 for mission debrief," Rob orders.

Quinn's stiff from the long flight and he takes a moment to move his head from side to side and roll his shoulders back before jogging lightly down the stairs of the plane, duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

The crew in the hangar are tending to the aircraft and nod at him in the others in acknowledgment and he starts to head towards the door before stopping abruptly on the spot, staring across the hangar in complete shock.

 _"Carrie?"_ he demands, a thunderstruck expression on his face as Carrie straightens from where she's been standing against the far wall of the hangar, waiting for him. She's dressed in a severe-looking dark suit and white-blouse, her blonde hair pulled back from her face in a pony-tail that somehow makes her face look softer.

"Thank God!" she breathes, coming towards him at a quick walk. He drops his bag and strides quickly towards her. He lifts her up into his arms – or she jumps, it's not clear which – and her arms wrap tightly around his neck before her mouth comes down hard on his.

Wolf whistles and dirty remarks swirl around them unnoticed, his hands moving over her body as she tries to melt into him. Eventually he pulls back from the kiss, breathing ragged, letting her slide down his body, his arms still tight around her.

"Thank God you're all right … I've been so worried," she tells him. "You have got to stop fucking with me like this," she tells him fiercely, her hands touching his face as if to reassure herself that he's really there. Words cannot express the joy that she felt when Saul told her that the team had resurfaced on the grid in Jordan. 

"What are you doing here – how …?" he starts to ask.

Then he stops abruptly. He's not even sure why he's surprised anymore. If anyone knows how to get what she wants, it's fucking Carrie Mathison. She's a juggernaut, a one woman-army crusading against the world.

"I know the debrief's at 9," she tells him. "Let me give you a ride back to your place and then I'll drive you to HQ for the debrief – unless you'd rather catch a cab," she asks him with a smile.

*

She glances at him regularly as she drives. "Shit Carrie – keep your eyes on the road. I didn't survive Syria to get taken out in DC traffic," he tells her. She rolls her eyes at him.

"Lighten up, Quinn."

At the lights, he reaches out to touch her cheek wonderingly, still unable to believe that she's here – and not angry with him. On the drive, she fills him in briefly on what's been happening. In addition to the three Haqqani lieutenants that Quinn and his team took down in Syria, they have been tracking the other two men released as part of the prisoner exchange – and Haqqani himself in a double-double cross.

"We made it look like the rebels but there's no doubt that Haqqani will suspect our involvement in this fuckery," Quinn tells her grimly.

She tells him about Dar Adal, about Saul and listens to him swearing under his breath. "Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. "And Saul …" His voice is horrified.

"Yeah, Saul," Carrie tells him soberly.

She pulls into the car park of his motel and walks with him to his motel room. "Make yourself at home," he tells her as he heads into the bathroom. 

"That was quick," she remarks when he emerges in record time, freshly shaven and his hair damp from the shower. She's sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him and his eyes linger on her face, still unable to believe that she's here.

"We don't have a lot of time before the debrief and I wanted to talk," he tells her, pulling a chair up so that it was beside the bed.

"I had to go," he tells her bluntly.

"That your version of an apology?" she asks him disbelievingly and he shakes his head.

"No, just an explanation."

"I know why you went," she tells him. 

"So you weren't pissed at me?"

"I didn't say that," she retorts. 

He reaches out and cups her face before reaching up to touch her ponytail with his fingertip. "This is nice," he remarks with a faint smile.

"Don’t try to distract me," she tells him even as she reaches up to touch his cheek. "I've had a lot of time to think while you've been away."

"It's ok Carrie – I don't want to pressure you – "

"This is the thing," she tells him. "I want this …" He freezes and stares at her very intently. "I want … us… this thing that we have … it feels good and …" she struggles to find the words. "I want to hold onto it."

"I'm not going anywhere, Carrie," he tells her huskily.

"That's what you say now but I'll turn around you'll be off to Iran on some mission and have your fucking phone disconnected again," she tells him and he shakes his head with a rueful smile. She turns serious again. "I know you want out – you've told me… back in Islamabad, Astrid also told me that you keep trying to get out and failing – " His smile fades. "I think the problem is you're trying for too much."

"So you think that someone like me can only ever do this … thing," he asks her, his eyes dark and shuttered. If it wasn't Quinn, she'd think he sounded hurt.

"No, fuck no," she mutters. "That's not what I'm saying at all. Shit Quinn. What I'm saying is – you don't want to kill people anymore. I get that and I agree with the decision. The mistake you've made is to be so extreme about it – getting out of the CIA altogether … you need to take things in steps. First step –get out of Dar Adal's groups - get out of black ops … no more assassinations."

He frowns. "The CIA as a whole is fucked," he mutters.

"But opting out completely isn't the solution," she tells him. "You want us to opt out and we leave everything to the likes of Dar Adal? That's just as fucked."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I've been offered Middle East Division Chief – Saul's old position. I want to accept – and I want you to be in my team."

He stared at her. "Carrie, I'm no analyst."

"That's bullshit, Quinn," she tells him scornfully. "I've worked with you – you're a gifted analyst. You're so fucking good at whatever you do, you could do anything …" He raises an eyebrow. 

"Don't let it go to your head," she tells him and he grins. "What do you say? We make a fucking brilliant team, Quinn – you know that. We'd be unstoppable. Think of all the good we could do - and no one gets killed – except you if you piss me off."

His lips twitch. "You make it sound very tempting, Carrie."

"Then say yes."

"Dar Adal is never going to let me go – " he begins and then tilts his head questioningly at the almost cold smile on Carrie's lips. "What do you know? What have you done?"

"He's agreed to release you, Quinn – to join the Middle East Division," she tells him and Quinn's eyes widen, his pupils dilating. "If you want, today can be your last day in Dar Adal's team," she tells him triumphantly.

"Fuck me," he mutters. A smile starts to curve his mouth and he stares at her. "How – ?" Then he shakes his head. "The great Carrie Mathison strikes again," he says with admiration in his eyes as he reaches up to touch her cheek.

He glances down at his watch. "Fuck, we've got the debrief."

"I know." They both stand up and she looks up at him and smiles. "So what do you say, Quinn? How about it? Leave Dar Adal's group?" She cocks her head and raises her eyebrows. 

He smiles at her but says nothing.

She raises her eyebrows. "Well? Are you _my_ guy now?" she demands, in a manner designed to mimic Dar Adal's possessive tones. 

He reaches down and pulls her into his arms. "I always have been, Carrie."


End file.
